Stars Around His Head
by Boredette
Summary: What do you do when you realise you're in love and at the same time, that there's someone watching you from the shadows?
1. Blaine

**A/N: Okay, so this is a fic I started writing on Tumblr and will continue to write on Tumblr. I just wanted somewhere a little more permanent to put it. **

**I'm uploading everything I've written on it so far in one go. The chapters are really short because I've been trying to get them out there, but I'll make them a little longer now.**

**So without further ado, enjoy :)**

* * *

I can't handle it. I'm going to drive my pen through my head if I have to deal with this again. Every thirty seconds he makes that goddamn popping sound with his lips. It was tolerable the first few times. Every time after that has made me imagine a different cartoon near-death scenario. Anvils, rock-falls, giant holes – no Tom and Jerry antic has remained unexplored. Blaine Anderson, in my imagination, lives in a perpetual state of stars around his head.

I think back to that blissful time, after I had settled in to my new room and before Blaine had arrived. To that glorious time when it looked as though he would never show up. To that time of pure and uninterrupted happiness when I had an entire room to myself. To that time when I didn't have to worry about disturbing someone else when I stuck to my schedule. To that time when I didn't have to worry about the possibility of someone coming into the room at three in the morning completely trashed and puking all over the carpet. To that time before Blaine.

Oh my god, there's that popping again and I swear that this time I'm going to give him a piece of my mind.

I stand up from my desk and actually knock over my chair I'm so frustrated. Blaine jumps. Good.

"Can I ask you something?" I ask as I stand in front of him with my arms folded.

"Is there a problem, Kurt?" he asks, looking up at me with such a sincere and concerned look that I momentarily forget to be mad at him.

The other annoying thing about Blaine is that he's completely gorgeous. There's no way of getting around it. He has the most amazing olive skin (that's perfect even though he uses a quarter of the product I use), amazing curly hair that he unfortunately slicks down with so much gel that I'm convinced he is solely to blame for Global Warming, and the most gorgeous eyes I have ever seen on any human being.

By all accounts, he is my ideal guy and I know for a fact that he is gay. I just can't overcome the small things I see because I'm in his face all the time. It's like being a married couple without any of the benefits - just living with someone against your will and having to deal with their annoying habits as best you can.

I stare him down. I refuse to let his good looks and charm win, but I find it so impossible. He probably doesn't even realise he's irritating. And wasn't it me who Rachel was telling off the other day for tapping my foot on the leg of the table? I bite my lip because I actually have no room to speak.

"Kurt?" Blaine asks again and he sounds so concerned that I can't just yell at him.

"I'm just… can you… can I ask you to stay up in case I need a lift home?" I ask pathetically. "I'm going out."

"I… sure," says Blaine with that smile that always makes me forget how much he irritates me, how much he grates on me, how many times he's died a cartoon death.

Well now I've stepped in it. Now I have to go out. And it's Finn and Rachel's date night so they're out of the question.

I guess I'm trying out some of the local night life.

Kurt Hummel – party person extraordinaire.


	2. Pulse

It's a comfort to realise that anywhere I go in New York is at least ten times better than anywhere in Lima. _Pulse_, the nearby gay-bar, is a prime example of that. There's no dingy bar feel to it. It's modern, it's fresh and very stylish. And although it gives off the appearance of being really expensive, I can't say that it's much pricier than _Scandals_ is.

While it's good to know that there's a pretty decent watering hole within walking distance of my campus, I'm really not in the mood for it tonight. I want to be in my room, studying – getting somewhere with the million assignments I've been given. Damn Blaine and his gorgeous eyes.

A couple of guys come up to me and offer to buy me drinks, but I say no. I really don't need to re-explore my relationship status tonight – that's a story best left for a sadder, lonelier time. Tonight, since I'm here, I'm just going to drink and feel good.

Since I remember vividly what happens to me when I'm drunk (or at least, I remember the torture of the mornings after I got myself drunk), I plan to stop long before then.

However, and I'm not entirely sure how I let it happen, I find myself on the dance floor two hours later, about to make out with a guy I don't even know. The past few hours are such a blur of colour and sound that I can't remember his name or how we got to this point. All I know is that I have to get out of this club. I have to get back to my room and I need to sleep this evening off.

But if I can't even remember ending up in the arms of some creepy stranger, what are the odds that I'll make it home alone without being mugged or stabbed or something?

So, hating that I have to do this, I call Blaine.

"Kurt, are you okay?"he says immediately after answering the phone and I can't help the little flutter my heart does. I blame it on the alcohol.

"Can… can you… um… give me a lift? I'm at Pulse and I don't think I can walk alone."

I sound like such an idiot.

"I'll be there in a few minutes," he says before hanging up. I stand waiting for him outside the club, shivering in the cold night air. I should have taken a coat, but I hadn't been thinking that far ahead.

I audibly gasp when someone wraps an arm around me. Whoever it is smells strongly of alcohol, sweat, and the most disgusting aftershave I have ever had the misfortune of smelling. I fight not to throw up on the spot and try to escape his grip, which tightens around me the more I struggle.

"We never got to finish what we started in there," he purrs into my ear and fear floods my body as I realise that it's the guy from the dance floor. I can't get away from him now – his grip is like a vice. It's all I can do not to scream.

"Please let go of me," I say as calmly and forcefully as I can.

"And where would the fun in that be?" the man replies with a twisted smile. "Besides, I just have to wait a few minutes and you won't put up much of a fight at all."

It's true – I'm too weakened by the alcohol and whatever he's probably slipped into my drink to fight back. I'm about to scream out loud when I see Blaine's car pull up along the sidewalk and I feel relief wash over me as he climbs out.

"BLAINE!" I yell as loudly as I can and his head immediately snaps up to take in the sight in front of him. "BLAINE!"

"Calling for your boyfriend?" says the man, scraping his teeth across my earlobe while snaking his hand across my mouth. "I don't think he'll hear you from here. And besides, you don't want to ruin our fun, do you?"

"HEY! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Blaine yells as he runs towards us. The man's grip loosens and I take the opportunity to elbow him in the stomach and escape his grasp. Though he's at least a head shorter than the guy, Blaine soon has him pinned against the wall. He shoves his shoulders hard as he shouts "I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!"

The element of surprise has worn off and the man has clearly worked out that Blaine is a hell of a lot smaller than him. So without thinking too much about it, he throws his fist at Blaine's face and it makes contact with his eye. Blaine reels back for a moment in shock, before his fist makes contact with the man's jaw, breaking it.

The man seems to take a hint and runs for it, leaving Blaine standing staring after him and me shaking, trying to process what just happened.

"Are you okay?" says Blaine, walking over to me and placing a hand carefully on my shoulder. I pull him into a tight hug, trying to convey how grateful I am for what he's done. I realise that I'm sobbing, nearly hysterical. Nothing like that has ever happened to me and it leaves me feeling stupid. I was so careless tonight.

"I'm such an idiot – I should have watched my drink better. I think he might have put something in it." I'm shaking and my mind is starting to cloud over. I've never seen Blaine look like this though. He's furious.

"It's not your fault, okay?" he says low and dangerously. "Whatever you think, it's not your fault. It's that fuck-up's. You didn't ask for that."

I nod, my mind feeling fuzzy. I need to sleep or sit down or something. This is too much – too much is happening. The world is spinning and I'm starting to feel numb.

"Blaine, I need to go home," I say, feeling my legs starting to give way.

The next thing I remember is waking up to see a glass of water, bottle of aspirin and a handwritten note.

_I've gone to get us breakfast. Hope you don't feel too gross today. We need to talk about last night. - B_

What have I done now?


	3. Breakfast

I'm about to get up and make myself look presentable when I hear keys in our door and the sound of Blaine coming in. We stare at each other for a moment and I feel awkward. I'm in my pyjamas with bed-head and he's wearing a casual but very well put-together outfit that makes him look, if possible, even more gorgeous. I notice that he has a massive black eye and my stomach sinks. Was that my fault? Is that what he wants to talk about?

"Hey, you're awake," he says, with a smile, walking over with a brown paper bag that smells amazing. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful," I say, as I pull myself up in bed a little. "What happened last night?"

Blaine develops a small frown and I'm immediately worried. Whatever happened last night was probably pretty serious and I still can't shake the fear that I've done something completely horrible.

"How much do you remember of what happened?" he asks softly.

Well, there's a question, because I was quite clearly beyond drunk. But now that I think about it, I can remember a few details here and there.

"Um, okay… well I was at Pulse and guys were offering to buy me drinks, but I kept declining." I cringe because it sounds so conceited, but Blaine doesn't seem to mind, so I carry on. "I don't really remember much more after that, but I remember there being a guy…"

My heart starts pounding as I remember the smell of him, his vice-like grip around me, and his foul breath on my neck. I also remember the sound of fist meeting face and the breaking of bones. I glance up at Blaine, but his jaw is completely fine.

The pieces start fitting together and I begin to understand what must have happened.

"Did he do anything to me?" I ask fearfully, afraid that Blaine's answer might not be the one I'm hoping for.

"Not more than holding you against your will and touching you without your say," says Blaine and I feel a small sense of relief mingled with disgust. Blaine's frown deepens. "The thing is, Kurt, it was still sexual assault. The guy clearly slipped something into your drink. If you hadn't called me when you did…"

"No," I say. "Don't make that my quick thinking. Who knows what he would have done if you hadn't stepped in? I'm assuming he was the one who gave you the war-wound?"

"Yeah," says Blaine with a small grimace "although I gave him something to remember me by too."

"I know," I say with a smile. "I remember."

Blaine blushes a little.

"Look," I say as I play with the edge of my duvet cover, "I know you're probably going to try to tell me to press charges."

Blaine makes as if he wants to say something, but I hold up a hand to keep him quiet.

"I'm not going to though," I say. "As far as evidence is concerned, I think they'll be able to say that nothing really happened. You only arrived afterwards and I was too drunk for me to remember anything enough to accuse someone. I think they might have more evidence to charge you with assault."

"But the guy punched me first!" says Blaine, the back of his neck turning red in anger.

"I know," I say, instinctively grabbing his hand to calm him down. "I just don't want you to get into trouble for my sake. You saved me last night and it would kill me to have you behind bars because of it."

I can tell Blaine doesn't like this at all, but he seems to respect my decision. Instead of arguing with me, he lets out a slow breath, calming himself down.

"You should really eat that," he says, still holding my hand and motioning to the delicious-smelling brown paper bag on my lap. "It'll make you feel loads better."

I peer inside to see the greasiest, most delicious-looking pastry I have ever seen in my life. The thought of all the calories I would consume makes me feel like handing it straight back to Blaine, but he _did_ go through all the effort of going out to get it for me and it _does_ smell amazing.

"Thanks, Blaine," I say, trying to articulate my thanks not only for the breakfast but also for what he did for me last night and his concern for me this morning. I decide in this moment to forget that Blaine has annoying habits and that he's flawed. Because seriously, who isn't?

No. I allow myself, for the first time, to admit that he's a pretty great guy.

"Hey, it's what any friend would do, right?" says Blaine, stroking his thumb across the back of my hand. He looks at me nervously for a moment and I can tell he's looking for some kind of confirmation that we are indeed friends now. How could we not be after what he did for me last night?

"Yeah," I say with a small smile and Blaine grins before checking his watch.

"Oh god, I have to get to the library now, but I'll be back in a few hours," he says and I can't help but feel a little disappointed when his grip on my hand loosens. "We could maybe watch a movie later, if you're up for it?"

"Sure," I say with a smile.

"Awesome," says Blaine, returning it. "I'll see you later then. Focus on getting better, okay?"

"Will do," I say with a small chuckle.

As he grabs his bag and heads off to the campus library, I am overwhelmed with a sudden realisation.

Maybe it's just because I'm still recovering from last night, but I think I'm falling for Blaine Anderson.


	4. Evita

I've been struggling to work out who Blaine reminds me of since I met him. He looks so familiar, but I can't ever place him. That is, until today. I just assumed he reminded me of some or other celebrity, but it turns out that he looks familiar because we've met before.

Turns out he was the lead singer of the Warblers, another show choir back in Ohio, where we both hail from. There were a few times where we exchanged shy hellos at competitions, but we never really learned each other's names. We both laugh at how amazing it is that we would end up in the same room at college and I freak out inside because nothing that perfect could ever be real.

Still, it seems pretty real.

"It's weird, because you always, sort of… caught my attention," says Blaine as we lie on our Blaine's bed next to each other watching Evita on his laptop. This small, almost off-hand comment completely catches me off-guard and my head snaps up suddenly, making me look like a complete idiot. I quickly compose myself. The last thing I want to do is give anything away.

"Well, I am sort of an attention-grabber," I say, knowing that there's a telling blush creeping across my cheeks. I pretend that I don't know that Blaine has noticed it. Perhaps he'll just assume that it's because I'm not used to receiving compliments – which I'm not really, and even less so from gorgeous men who I'm pretty sure I'm in love with.

Although I feel I've dodged a bullet, I'm now hyper-aware of the fact that our bodies are touching and that we are sharing the same blanket. Who's idea was this anyway? My heart skips a beat as I realise it was Blaine's. But I can't let myself think like that. It doesn't mean anything.

"Kurt," says Blaine, his voice shaking as if he's crying… or nervous.

"Yeah?" I say, knowing from the tone of his voice that whatever he's about to say now is going to be important. It's ridiculous to believe that it might be about what I hope it is. It's more than likely something personal he wants to get off his chest and I should prepare myself accordingly.

"Um… okay, I know we've only officially been friends for a few weeks, but I feel like I've known you for years."

"That's because you have, remember?" I say raising an eyebrow.

"No, I mean like, I've _known_ you known you. Not in the Biblical sense though!" he adds hastily and I almost fall off the bed because _where_ did that come from? I wasn't even thinking that. "I just mean it feels like we've been friends forever. But I'm scared that if you feel like that, you might not… I mean you won't…"

"Blaine, what are you trying to say?" I ask. He isn't making any sense and what I need more than anything right now is clarity.

"I'm trying to ask you out, but I think I'm failing horribly," says Blaine and my heart actually stops.

He didn't say that. There's no way he just said that.

"K-Kurt?" he asks with a small stammer and I'm suddenly aware of how nervous he is. Is he really that afraid of what my answer might be?

"I… um… I've actually been trying to work up the courage to do the same," I say with a shy smile.

"Really?" asks Blaine.

"Yeah, ever since the night after… you know when you brought me the breakfast?"

"Wow, it's a good thing I didn't ask you before then," says Blaine letting out a small relieved laugh.

"You mean you… you… for longer?" I ask, my powers of articulation severely diminished by amazement and craziness of my current situation.

"Yeah, like since I got here and you sat me down to explain your routine and schedule. I've had a tiny crush on you since the show choir days but being around you and getting to know you just sort of intensified it. I didn't want to make things awkward by asking you out because we would practically never talk to each other. But I just couldn't keep it in any longer."

I try to process this, but it's a lot to take in. Blaine's always had a small crush on me. He's wanted to ask me out for ages. He asked me out.

Finally it seems to have sunk in enough for me to continue like a normal person.

"So what did you have in mind?" I ask.

"I was thinking of taking you to see Wicked, since I know it's one of your favourites and since I've never seen it," he says. "But I don't know if that's too much for a first date…"

"Tell you what," I say, hardly daring to believe that Blaine is real. There's no way I've managed to find a guy who will take me to Wicked on Broadway without having to be hinted to. "I'll take you out for coffee first and then it'll technically be the second date. You _have_ to see Wicked and I'd be honoured to be your company."

"Okay, deal," says Blaine, knocking his shoulder against mine and I can't help the warm, fuzzy feeling that creeps through my body. I'm going out for coffee and to see one of my favourite Broadway shows with Blaine. I have to restrain myself from flailing on the bed in happiness.

As Eva Peron embarks on her Rainbow Tour, I feel no real embarrassment in moving a little closer to Blaine and laying my head on his shoulder. It feels so completely perfect that I momentarily forget to breathe. I can't stop the grin that crosses my face when he rests his head on mine.

I'm fast asleep within minutes.


	5. Call

The date is going so well that I silently kick myself for not asking Blaine out sooner. The coffee part of it was amazing. We laughed at how overdressed we were compared to the other customers, spoke about how the Lima Bean is possibly the only thing about Ohio to be missed and discussed the play a little.

"So it's set before The Wizard of Oz?" asks Blaine as we make our way to the theatre. It's not too far away and in any case I'm enjoying the walk. We're holding hands and it's just so perfect. I never want this evening to end.

"Kinda," I say, but I roll my eyes. "I can't tell you much more without spoiling it for you."

"I don't mind being spoiled," he says with a small pout that makes him look like a puppy. "Please, Kurt?"

"Nope," I say shaking my head. "You'll just have to wait and see for yourself."

"You're no fun," he says, sticking out his tongue playfully.

"You'll attract flies doing that," I say. I picked up the saying from Carole who would often say it to Finn. I found it hilarious. Blaine seems to think so too.

"Did I mention how amazing you look tonight?" he asks, giving me a small kiss on the cheek. I blush.

"I think you might have said something along those lines, though it doesn't hurt to make sure," I say. "You just always look gorgeous."

To my delight, he blushes too.

Blaine doesn't joke around with stuff like this – when he says he's taking you to see a musical, he means he's taking you to _see_ a musical. I can't believe how amazing our seats are.

"This is perfect!" I say excitedly.

"I did my research," he replies with a grin before lacing his fingers through mine.

The play is incredible and more than once I look over to see Blaine wiping away a tear. By the end tears are falling silently down his cheeks.

"Are you okay?" I ask with a sympathetic smile as we walk away from the theatre and he nods before pulling me into a tight hug.

"Thanks for this," he says.

"It was your idea," I say confusedly.

"Yes, but you could have said no," he says. He breaks the hug, and slips his hand into mine again.

"How's about dinner? It's my chance to take you out, right?" I say.

"Pizza," he says with a grin.

"Pizza," I agree.

I am suddenly overwhelmed with horrible feeling of being watched. I turn around sharply to check, but everyone behind us seems to be busy with their own lives.

"What was that?" asks Blaine, concernedly.

"Just my mind playing tricks on me," I say, though I still feel a little creeped out. The sooner we get to the restaurant the better.

We find a cute little Italian restaurant after about fifteen minutes and we slide into one of the little booths.

"Did I mention that Rachel and I snuck into the Gershwin theatre and sang on the stage?" I ask as we wait for our orders to arrive. Blaine's eyes widen.

"No, you didn't!" he says excitedly. "Really?"

"Oh yeah," I say, "when we were here for Nationals in my junior year. Best experience of my life."

"I'm sure it was," says Blaine enviously. "Especially if you're planning to go into musical theatre."

"I must admit, it did sort of solidify the dream," I say.

Blaine's about to say something when he's interrupted by the arrival of the pizzas. We thank the waiter and immediately start eating. We were clearly both starving.

"You were going to say something before," I say after a large mouthful.

"Oh," says Blaine, lowering the slice he was about to start. "I was just saying how lucky you are that your dreams are so set in stone. I can't seem to make up my mind about my own. I know I want to perform, but I just don't know in what context yet."

"Well, I think you'd make an excellent Muppet," I say and I'm pleased that this causes Blaine to laugh so loudly that the people at the next table turn around to look at us.

"You're actually perfect, you know that right?" he says. I don't, but I thank him shyly anyway.

An hour and a few drinks later, Blaine calls us a cab.

"So, your place or mine?" he asks with a mischievous grin.

"Oh, definitely your place," I say. "Mine's such a mess and I think my roommate might be in."

"Oh yeah, that's a problem," Blaine says with a mock-frown. "I've heard he's a real asshole."

"Only when you're trying to study," I say. I'm surprised when out of nowhere, Blaine's lips are pressed to mine. I'm momentarily taken aback, but I relax into it. After all, this moment has been a recurring daydream for a number of weeks now.

We break apart only when a cab stops in front of us.

"That was…"

"Wow…" Blaine finishes for me. We blissfully stare at each other for a moment before a loud horn pulls us out of our own world.

"Hey, come on, I got other places to be," says that cab driver in a thick New York accent. Blaine gets the door for me, which annoys me a little, but I don't say anything because I know why he did it and before I know it we're opening the door of our room and Blaine collapses onto his bed. He's fast asleep, fully clothed, within minutes.

I still carry out my moisturizing routine and use the time to think about the nights events. After everything I'm more than happy to call Blaine my boyfriend. As far as I'm concerned I'm never going to find anyone better or more perfect for me. Still, it remains to be seen if Blaine feels the same way. It looks like he might, but I learned long ago not to assume things about others.

I'm about to crawl into bed when my cellphone rings loudly. I'm afraid it'll wake Blaine, but he seems to still be deep in the land of Nod.

Rolling my eyes because it's probably Puck calling, not realising that there are people who sleep at night, I press the answer button.

"Hello?" I say. There's nothing on the other line. Nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and traffic. Whoever it is is clearly phoning from a phone box. "Hello?" I repeat, more insistant.

"You looked beautiful tonight," says the voice on the other end. It's croaky and harsh and not one I recognise at all. I'm filled suddenly with dread, remembering the feeling of being watched.

"You… you have the wrong number," I say hopefully, praying that it gets them to hang up.

"I just wanted to say goodnight… Kurt."

And with that the line goes dead.

I'm so scared that I don't even know what to do with myself. I should wake Blaine and tell him what happened, but he looks so peaceful that I decide I'll let him know in the morning.

I have nightmares that night for the first time since I was a kid.


	6. Nightmare

I'm walking through the halls of McKinley, chatting to Rachel about New York and how exciting it's going to be, when suddenly everything goes dark.

"Power outs again," Rachel says, trying to explain it away, but something doesn't feel right. There's something eerie about the way there's not even moonlight from outside. Everything is just pitch black.

"Rach, I don't think this is a normal power out," I say and almost immediately I feel a pair of cold, clammy arms pull me backwards down the hallway. I scream, trying to claw my way out of the grasp calling desperately for Rachel to help me, but she has long since vanished into the blackness. A new wave of panic crashes over me as I find myself surrounded by a horribly familiar cocktail of smells - alcohol, sweat and cheap aftershave.

"Kurt," it says softly, in a harsh, croaky voice, pulling me further into the darkness. "Kurt… Kurt… KURT!"

My eyes snap open and my vision is filled with the sight of Blaine looking down at me worriedly.

"Kurt, are you okay?" he asks, pushing back the damp hair from my forehead. "You were screaming and calling for Rachel."

I push myself up and throw my arms around him. I realise that it's probably not the most normal thing in the world in a relationship that's just getting off the ground, but it's what I used to do with my dad when I was a kid and I just need someone to hold me and calm me down right now.

"Hey," he says, wrapping his arms tightly around my back, one of his hands reaching up to stroke the back of my head tenderly. "It's okay. It was just a dream. I'm here."

I sob into his shoulder because I know it's not just a dream. Things are getting weird. But the last thing I want to do is drag Blaine into it too. Not while we're just starting out. I don't want to lie to him, but at the same time, I don't want him to think I'm this paranoid person who freaks out about things that aren't really worth freaking out about.

"Okay, I know this may sound forward," says Blaine, "but I want you to come lie next to me in my bed. Nothing funny – I just get the sense that you need someone close to you right now."

I nod and follow him into his bed which is still warm. It smells like him too. I don't know exactly what it is – probably something to do with the night he saved me – but I associate that scent with security and comfort. I lie facing him and I let him wrap his arms around me again. I'm still feeling jumpy, but I can feel my heart rate start to return to its normal speed the longer I lie looking at him.

We've lay next to each other before, but never like this. Never _together_ - with the intention of soothing and calming. It's a new experience. The excitement is slightly punctured by the slowly subsiding anxiety I still feel.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks softly. I consider for a moment not telling him anything, but I decide there's no harm in talking about the dream. After all, if I don't get it out it's just going to live in my head and turn me into a nervous wreck. So I explain the dream to Blaine, leaving out the fact that I think it may be my subconscious dramatising recent events. He holds me tighter the more I speak - his face sympathetic and worried.

"Oh, Kurt," he says placing a small kiss on the tip of my nose. "It's okay now alright?"

"Yeah, I know," I say, feeling an impossible smile fight its way across my features. Blaine has that disarming effect on me. "I guess I had too much cheese on my pizza."

"Maybe," Blaine says, snuggling closer to me. "Are you sure that there's nothing else?"

"I… yeah," I say. I feel guilty for lying, but I don't even know where to begin with that particular conversation. Also, there's every chance that it could just have been someone pulling a ridiculous prank. Yes, that's probably it. I'm worrying about nothing."

"Okay then," says Blaine, pressing his forehead to mine. "I guess I should say goodnight then."

"Good morning, surely?" I say with a small smile.

"_Good mornin', good mornin' – we've talked the whole night through,_" he sings softly, and can't resist the urge to give him a small kiss. I revel in the fact that I can do things like that now.

I'm just starting to drift off when Blaine starts speaking again.

"Kurt, if there is something up, you'll tell me right?" he says.

"Of course," I say and I immediately feel guilt at the pit of my stomach. I'm lying to him this early on in the relationship which can't possibly be a good thing.

But surely he'd understand why?


	7. Words

Nothing really eventful happens for the next few weeks and for the first time I really believe that I've been over exaggerating the details of the phone call. I mean, it was probably just a wrong number. My tired and slightly paranoid mind probably supplied my name. Really, it was more than likely just all a huge misunderstanding on my part.

Besides, I have a relationship to be dealing with now.

Things with Blaine are going really well. We're taking it pretty slow now - even though we seemed to start off pretty fast – and I'm enjoying getting to know him. We've been pretty good at giving each other space because we're in each other's faces all the time. We don't walk to class together and we take different routes to give us some time to ourselves. We refuse eat lunch together.

It's an interesting situation to be in – having to find time not to be together rather than struggling to scrape some time for the other person. I decide I like it a whole lot better this way. It's easier to navigate.

Another thing to be noted is that Blaine has stopped making that annoying sound when we study. I have long since told him the story of how I had ended up at Pulse that night. Blaine initially felt terrible about it, saying that it was his fault I had gone out in the first place. I told him that he doesn't hold the balance of the universe in his hands. Besides, if it was anyone's fault it was mine because I chickened out of telling Blaine the truth. The upside to the ridiculous argument that followed was that Blaine no longer makes that noise.

Things are going really well, but there's still that small twinge of guilt within me at not telling Blaine about the caller. Although I've now refined it down to "just a wrong number", I can't shake the feeling that it's the kind of thing that boyfriends are supposed to be honest about.

Are we boyfriends now? I haven't asked Blaine and it suddenly bothers me. We've been together for nearly a month and we haven't even established what we are.

I decide that here, as I sit at my favourite table in my favourite coffee joint, is as good a place as any to find out, so I hastily dial Blaine's number.

"_Kurt_," says Blaine as he answers the phone and you can practically hear the smile. "_What's up_?"

"We're boyfriends right?" I ask, not wanting to dance around the issue. These are the kinds of things I need to know.

"_I hope so_," says Blaine, sounding worried, "_that's what I've been telling people. Why? Is something wrong_?"

"No, everything's great," I say with a smile. "I just wanted to know how serious things are."

"_Well, I'm crazy about you_," says Blaine, "_and I'll do anything in my power to hold onto you now that I have you, okay?_"

I want to say it then, but I'm scared it's too soon. And the guilt of keeping stuff from him makes the words taste sour in my mouth anyway.

"See you after classes," I say.

"_Can't wait_," says Blaine.

I hang up and the warm feeling that I get in my chest whenever I speak to him is there for all of two seconds before I spot them.

Eyes.

Staring at me.

I look again, but they seem to have vanished. The feeling of dread doesn't. I can no longer pretend that that phone call was just an accident. It seems like there's someone watching me and I can't understand why.

I do know one thing, however – I need to tell Blaine about it.

So that evening, when I walk through the door of our room and dump my stuff on my bed, I prepare what I'm going to say – starting with the guy from the bar and finishing with the eyes in the window. In my mind it's all worked out and Blaine understands my hesitation in telling him.

I somehow don't see things going as smoothly in reality.

Blaine comes home about half an hour later, and I stand to start my confession. But before I can even begin speaking, Blaine has crossed the room and grabbed my shoulders.

"I wanted to say it to you at lunch and I chickened out," he says softly. "I'm not going to let another opportunity pass. I love you, Kurt."

_I'm being stalked, Blaine_, I think to myself. How am I supposed to tell him now? Especially seeing as I've been keeping it from him since as long as we've been together.

So instead of "Blaine there's a guy who's creeping me out" and getting release from the anxiety of Blaine not knowing the situation, I find my mouth forming other words.

"I love you too."


End file.
